


Teenage Wasteland

by BittersweetAlias



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst, Character Death, Drama, F/M, First Person, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-24 22:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3787402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BittersweetAlias/pseuds/BittersweetAlias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hunger Games are a means of controlling the districts, to keep them from trusting one another enough to lead a rebellion, but what happens when a certain 2nd District Career sees through it? Are Cato and Katniss really so different? How does this change the Hunger Games? A different take on the Hunger Games, and one of the most interesting yet barely written Career, Cato!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Hunger Games are great to read, but I find myself disappointed every time I read it that you don't get to know the other Tributes very well. They are talked about, but you don't really know them. This idea came to me while on my third or fourth read through of Hunger Games. I'm not good with First Person, but I'll try. I did my best to eliminate errors. Its not perfect, but well enough I think.

_**1.** _

_**-Its better to burn out than fade away – Neil Young** _

_**Cato:** _

My eyes are trained to spot the signs. I was born for this, I lived and breathed it. I didn't do it for the pleasure that appears on the surface. I didn't do it for the glistening gleam of crimson on silver. _No_ – I did it because I know if I didn't agree the three little ones in my life would have to face it.

I'm a big brother, and my training is all that keeps me from crying out in frustration. To keep winning, not for honor, not for dignity, but for them. The three smiling faces that survive on my districts favoritism of the Capitol.

I try not to shudder when the artificial blonde comes over to rest her glistening palm on my forearm. Its a game, I was told to play it. I was trained to play it – maybe I'm brainwashed, but I can't escape this feeling – something burning deep inside of me.

I know what it is, my eyes are drawn just like everyone else in the crowd. I can hardly hear what the blonde girl is saying because my eyes are on a pair of panting red lips, sky grey eyes fluttering closed as if she couldn't believe what she had been forced to do.

I see it then – she quickly drops the hand of the boy next to her.

A facade. Everyone has one, and its how they survive – or not in some cases. I see a tall dark skinned man – her stylist so unlike ours rush over to her and remove her headdress. I saw her during the Reaping. I watched it with Clove who sneered the whole time.

“How pathetic? She's just going to die now! No family is worth that!” I decide not to tell her that we are all going to die. Maybe she doesn't care, and just enjoys the games. I can already see it in my female mentor. Despite her ruthless gaze and sharp teeth, I can tell she has been used by the Capitol.

Despite the wealth of the 2nd District, we are not absconded from slavery. We are sugarcoated, I know this.

Clove is one of those who are ruthless, and a little unhinged.

However, I see her as me, protecting what little she has. There's something different about her than the others in the crowd, and the many District 12 Tributes I have seen. Most of them are weak and worn, underfed and sickly. Some rarely ever make it being so poor, but this girl – she has a keen glint in her eyes.

A glint only those born into the life can recognize, which surprises me as Clove doesn't seem to notice it. Too caught up with her own jealousy to see beyond, but I see beyond.

I see the look of a natural born killer.

She is a predator.

I am her prey.

She is my prey.

I am her predator.

She's like a panther, the way she moves in that damning black unitard.

A shiver runs down my back as her eyes focus on me. Her pretty face devoid of emotion, and instantly I think, _'I want her.'_

But that's impossible. I can't want her, unless its on the end of my sword. Still, my eyes never leave her, and she's looking at me.

I give her a smirk, and then she cocks one of her well crafted eyebrows as if in question. Yes, she is definitely one of them.

She can talk without words. I like that.

Too bad I have to kill her.

“I bet they slice like butter inside,” Clove says to me in a dark purr. It really doesn't become her, and I look at her with a cock of my brow.

“You must not have been trained as well as I would have thought.” She is infuriated instantly as I turn, and rip off the ridiculous headdress my stylist put me in. Some Roman getup, whatever the hell that meant.

What an _idiot_.

Its the next day, and I can't help but keep one eye across the other room where the girl from District 12 is stationed at the knot tying area. She has finally separated from her twin, and I can tell she seems mildly relieved.

From my position, she seems adequate. Clove is playing with her knives, and the girl from District 1 – Glimmer I think her name is seems to be having trouble with the bow.

And then – its when I catch it. A smirk on the girl from 12's face as she stares at Glimmer, and I once again know those eyes.

Her choice of weapon is the bow, but she's staying clear of it. I should tell Clove, but I don't. I don't know why, we are supposed to learn something about the other tributes while here, but instead I find myself moving before I can stop. Lucky for me everyone seems preoccupied, and they don't seem to notice.

The small dark haired girl stiffens, and straightens immediately, and her eyes settle on me. I have to fight down a classic shiver because it most definitely is on fire.

“Girl on Fire,” I can't help but say.

“Man in a dress,” she says back, and that should piss me off, but instead it makes me smirk.

“Too bad I didn't get your stylist.”

She doesn't smile, but I can see a tiny shred of playfulness in her eyes as she speaks to me with confidence. “I'd kill you first.”

I can only grin at the perfect retort. “I bet you would.” I lean closer, and take a look at her knot. “You should play with the archery station, show Glimmer a thing or two.”

The girl raises her eyes then, surprise on her face as she looks over to see Glimmer struggling with the strings of the bows. “What would I know?” But I see her eyes, the laughing that they are doing.

“Liar.”

“Glimmer huh? What strange names...”

“As if Katniss is any better.”

“Least I'll never go hungry finding myself,” she says logically, and I can't help but chuckle quietly. She has spunk, no wonder her stylist made her a girl on fire.

I began to tie a few knots as well considering attention was starting to be drawn to us, my laughing probably. Clove is glowering at us, but I pay no mind. Out of the corner of my eyes I see a little girl, and I tense up, but I notice she's watching Katniss.

“You've got a shadow,” I murmur too low for others to hear. As soon as Katniss turns, I see a flash of pain in her eyes, and quickly she goes back to her knot, and screws it up. Her mouth spreads into a thin line.

“Children...” Katniss can't help but whisper. I see the flame mixed with a pain from the Reaping.

“That was your sister called, huh?”

“I swear the Capitol does it on purpose. What are the odds? Two twelve year olds from outlying districts?” Katniss hissed ferociously. “My sisters was only one sheet of paper...” she realizes what she said, and went quiet, going back to the knot, and restarting.

“Nothing is coincidence, Fire Girl.” I've been trained all my life not to give a shit, but they couldn't completely break my spirit because I do have three siblings – three that depend on me to get back home, and to give them the rewards that being a Victor will provide. “We all have our reasons.”

“Glory, huh?”

“Maybe,” I say. I shouldn't say much, I have been told not to, but maybe for once I am tired of being told to do something. Maybe that's why I keep talking to her, keep seeking her out. She knows, and she can understand. Its a weakness I can't afford to have, but thinking about my three little sisters all at home – I can't help it. I lean in close, aware of a soft pine scent coming from the girl. Katniss' eyes widen as I get closer, and now I can see every small invisible line in her face. Her fear, her strength, and I see her as human.

Now I know why I was ordered not to let emotions get in my way, but now that I'm here I have to finish. “Some of us, even the more wealthy districts don't have it as well as you may think.”

“Sure... Careers.”

“Do you know how Careers are made?”

“Not sure I want to know.”

“Usually happens at birth, a poorer family has too many children, offer one up to be trained, and in return they are fed, housed, and taken care of better than the others. They are comfortable, until the Tribute dies – and then they are thrown out of that life, and back into starvation.” I shouldn't say more, but my mouth is moving before I can stop myself. My heart is pounding, and I see Katniss' head raise, horror in her face. She understands. She understands well.

“Why are you telling me this?”

I shrug. “Shouldn't.”

Katniss frowns. “I hope this isn't a ploy or a strategy – hitting all my buttons.”

“I don't think I'm that smart.”

“... don't doubt yourself,” she says after a second. She looks at my knot. “ _Here_ – you need to use your thumb, wrap it like this – and then underneath...”

“Girl knows her knots.” I follow her lead, I never really trained in something so mundane. It was pointless I was told, but I can bet that nothing this girl does is pointless. “Kill mine, I kill yours?” I find myself saying before I can stop. Katniss freezes, and glowers at me darkly. I smirk at her. “I can make it painless.”

For one brief moment I see that she wants to make the agreement, but I can also see that her moral code won't let her.

I'm done with the station, anymore lingering and people are going to start something that shouldn't be. So I let go of the knots, and as I pass, I whisper, “I hear they leave the training center open even at night. Its against the rules, but sometimes a Tribute will come down to really train.” I smirk as her back stiffens, and I disappear completely over to the spears where they are gleaming and waiting for my experienced hands.

I don't know how to feel about our conversation as I start chucking them at the moving dummies, slicing one in half, and using the other to spear its neck. I never miss. I revealed a lot, and too much.

She might not even believe me, and I don't blame her. I wasn't doing it to weaken her – no because that's foolish. If anything, a story like that would only make her stronger. She had everything to gain while I had nothing.

Clove is on my heels now. “What the hell was that, Cato?”

“None of your damn business,” I snap, and aggressively shoot a spear until it gets lodged into the padding of the walls. I glare at it hatefully, my emotions rising and swirling to the top.

“Why are you talking to that pathetic hag?”

“Jealous?” I can't help but sneer. “She is a catch...”

Clove sneers. “Please... disgusting pig is what I call it.”

“She's not the one about to come out of her training pants now is she?” I look down at her stomach. She's got about fifty to a hundred pounds on Katniss. Clove has already made comments about Glimmer, but I found Glimmer fake and not at all pleasing to the eye.

In that moment, Clove looks like she is about to kill me on the spot. I smirk. “Try it, and you'll be dead weight before you know it.”

You see, I have this problem because I'm not supposed to have emotions, but I do have them. Being trained like I was has twisted me – I know this. Its all I've known, killing. The Hunger Games will not be my first kills, I've already had them.

That's what makes us dangerous.

Born Killers.

What else can we be?

**Katniss**

I did my best to ignore the dark look that Glimmer and Peeta kept shooting me over lunch. Of course, Peeta said nothing, keeping up the pretense that we were happy, but I could see the smoldering look in his eyes.

I had a hard time keeping conversation like Effie and Haymitch had ordered from us as I continued taking bites of a crescent shaped piece of bread with black seeds in it. According to Peeta it was the grain and bread from District 11.

It didn't taste much different than our own flatbread at home except for the seeds.

“Poppy seeds,” Peeta answered seeing the question on my face.

“Huh.” They tasted really good. Then again everything I eat tastes good. I would never waste anything knowing that there are people out there in the Seam starving to death or struggling in the mines to make a few coins after a twelve hour shift just for some grain.

The Career Table was loud and rowdy, and it reminded Katniss of the setup back home at school with the popular crowd. Peeta was always one of the popular students.

I tried to block it out, but I couldn't help but remember Cato from this morning. I couldn't get my mind wrapped around the fact that what he had told me was real. I'm sure it was a ploy to weaken me for the games. He must have thought that my devotion and loyalty to my baby sister was a weakness he could pinpoint, make me less likely to kill him.

…

I don't know. And the fact that he seemed to pick up on the fact that I liked the bow. How could he possibly know that? He insisted that he wasn't that smart, but I'm not fooled. I refused to look at him as I continue to ponder our conversation.

If I'm being honest, and I listen to my instincts they tell me that what he says is the truth. Why did he tell me of all people? I don't get it. Why would he even approach me. I couldn't possibly join the Careers. They had an agenda that was far more vicious than I could even dream. However, I won't deny that my conversation with Cato reminded me very vaguely of the conversations with Gale my best friend and hunting partner.

Now, I'm confused, and it angers me. I eat as much as my stomach will allow before I deny anymore that Peeta tries to send my way. I'm frustrated and confused, angry and a little sad. I don't want to feel sympathy for these people.

They are all my enemy right? Even Peeta – I have to kill him. Maybe – maybe I should have taken Cato up on his offer to kill Peeta for me, and in return I kill his partner. I glance out of the corner of my eye to see the brutish girl. She's playing with her knife, turning it over in her hand, and keeps observing the other tributes like they are a piece of meat.

If I had a bow, I could shoot before she could throw. I know I could. I glance at Peeta briefly. Can I really kill him? This boy who saved my life – who reminded me that my life is worth living?

I don't have long to live – but I can't help but wondering if I could get through these games or at least far enough to do myself proud – I could die happy. Gale promised to take care of Prim and my mother, and I know he will make good on his promises.

I think about Haymitch, and I wonder if I could ask him to take care of Prim. If I could get that promise then I could die happy.

I rose from the lunch table. “Where you going?” Peeta asked, and I tried not to twitch at the irritation of being forced to tell anyone where and what I was doing.

“I need to talk to Haymitch,” I said cleaning my plate out so the Avoxes didn't have to. They already have it hard enough.

“I can come with -”

“No need, this is something personal.” I took off before he could stop me.

Haymitch as usual is sitting at the bar, nursing a large scotch. He stared at me for a moment. “What's my sweetheart doing?” he asked kicking the chair out for me.

I sit down, and turn to him. I brace myself. “I never mentioned it, but its likely I'm not going home.” Haymitch's features darken, but he doesn't agree or disagree. “But – there is only one way I can rest easy. I know we've asked a lot from you, but I'm asking one more thing...” I trailed off as I tried to get my breathing under control.

Haymitch arched an eyebrow. “You have nothing to ask. I've already made plans sweetheart. I'll look after your sister for you.” An immense weight has been taken off my shoulders. “Perhaps, if you can go into that arena knowing that she will be taken care of – maybe – maybe it'll give you something worth fighting for to get you home, alive.”

I smile, and though we have always had a rocky relationship, I can't help but kiss his cheek in thanks. “Thank you, Haymitch. I know Gale will do it, but he has his own family. I – I just can't trust my mother.”

Haymitch took a swallow of alcohol. “I heard an earful from Peeta that you were talking with a career.”

I shrugged. “I don't see what it matters. I'm not teaming up with them, I know better than that, but it doesn't hurt to talk, and see for myself what I'm dealing with.”

“I think its brilliant,” said Haymitch. “Go with your gut. Its the only way to get out alive.” He was about to swallow that last of his glass when I swooped in, caught it with one hand, and downed it. He glared at me, but I could see a sparkling glint of amusement. “I hope that wasn't your gut talking.”

“Maybe,” I said as my eyes watered, and the alcohol burned my throat. “Besides, if I'm old enough to kill – I'm damn well old enough to drink.”

“Cheers to that!” Haymitch hollered, and poured both of us a drink, and together we drank the scotch deeply together. “Just don't get plastered, you should go back down, make more friends.”

I was struck curious about that for a moment, Haymitch had warned us on the train about the Careers. After the promise from Haymitch I felt better, a renewed spirit that I didn't know even existed in me. I felt as if I would at least do well enough.

I don't know what gave me that renewed hope. Whatever it was, I didn't care, I was going to grab hold, and never let go until I breathe my last breath. “I just hope – it doesn't come down to Peeta and me.”

“...” Haymitch said nothing. He couldn't, I knew.

I slid off the stool, staggering a little causing Haymitch to bark a laugh as I gave him a rude gesture. I tightened my braid, and punched the button on the elevator.

As I staggered out back into the training room, everything was suddenly double. Whoa, whatever Haymitch had been drinking was getting to me. I felt buzzed, and Peeta was standing beside me suddenly – two of them.

“... are you drunk, Katniss?” Peeta asked horrified.

This got the attention of several Tributes as I shrugged. “What's it matter?”

“...I'm going to kill Haymitch.”

“You're no boss of me,” I said factually causing a hurt look to cross Peeta. “No one is. I have nothing to lose now.” I waved him off as I moved steadily over to the snares and trap area, mostly to sit down in the grass that stretched across a risen foundation with different traps and wires that looked familiar from all my time in the woods with Gale.

The trainer was delighted that I knew what I was doing, and he decided to show me an advanced snare. I wasn't as good as Gale, but I certainly wasn't a lost cause.

There was a dinner that night upstairs, I remained out of the conversation for the most part as I didn't feel up to discussing things.

Haymitch looked like he was studying us, and thinking, but I couldn't tell under all the alcohol he was drinking.

That night when everyone went to bed, I crawled out of the bed thinking about what Cato had said. I knew I shouldn't leave the room, but I couldn't help it. Instead of slipping into my training gear, I pulled on a pair of black slacks and a shiny green sleeveless shirt that went to my thighs. It was snapped on the shoulder blades by gold brackets, and my hair was down and soft. It lay in curly sheets around my head as I tried to bunch it aside. I was barefooted as I padded across the vast sitting room to the hallway where the elevator sat waiting for me to make a decision.

My stubborn curiosity was driving me, and maybe I was feeling a little rebellious because I was soon going down to the training center.

It was dark except for a gentle glow, I knew I was probably being watched, but I didn't care. What more could they do to me? I crossed the room silently, and I can't help myself but to go straight to the bows. I ran my fingertips over the solid wood and metals, I knew my eyes were gleaming – I could feel the pull inside the itching to grasp a hold of one.

I chose a bow made out of a sturdy light wood, I smell it – and its not pine like mine are. I took a quiver and loaded it with some gorgeous red feathered arrows. They were sharp, and absolutely wonderful.

I pressed the button in front of the shooting range, and orange faceless humans began to run back and forth. I held the bow in my hand, pulling the taut strings, and took in a deep breath, and thought about the woods back home.

A deer to feed my family, and before I knew it I became lost in the shooting. One after another until more and more orange glowing dummies raced across my sights.

I killed everyone in my sights, and they exploded in shards. I moved minutely, knowing how much energy to put into each shot to get it just right. From the head to the heart, and then the last two I hit dead in what could be considered the eye.

I was so focused on it that I didn't notice the shadow, and when I did I swung around, bow ready. It was Cato, and his hands were up in a clear sign of defense.

“Not now, Fire Girl. That'd be bad sport when I'm not even in the rink yet.”

I took a breath, and lowered my bow. I glared at him. “Didn't anyone ever tell you it wasn't a good idea to sneak up on someone?”

“I didn't sneak up, I called your name, and you were gone.” He smirked. “Your shooting is impeccable.”

“I know.”

“Cocky.”

“No more than you.”

“True – so – tell me how does a little girl from the 12th District learn to shoot?”

“How indeed?” I reiterated. I wasn't getting myself damned by telling him anything, especially if there were cameras and listening devices. I didn't want it to come back on my family. “Can you shoot?”

“I'd rather lunge,” said Cato taking the bow, and then snagging an arrow from my quiver. He drew it back, and while he did it well, I could tell he wasn't accustomed to using it.

He hit the first moving dummy in the foot, and then the knee. “A little higher, and I'll be impressed,” I couldn't help but tease, and Cato snorted.

“I bet...” Cato said, and then aimed right for the crotch. “Impressed?”

“I'll give you an eight.” Cato scoffed, and I shrugged. I don't know why I'm having such an easy converstion with him. I can't understand why. He was one of the ruthless, bloodthirsty Careers that I was trained to despise. “Prove you can do better, and I might make it a nine.”

Cato lowered the bow, and eyed me with scutiny. “I'll secure you a bow at the arena.”

I roll my eyes. “I don't need it secured.”

“Yes – yes you do. If Clove gets even a second chance, you are dead.”

“Not if I get her first,” I promised.

“You won't see it coming. That's how all beginnings start.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask with a hand on my hip. “I mean nothing to you. I'm just a number.”

“Perhaps that's true, but perhaps I also like challenges. I want to see what you can do, Fire Girl.”

“Don't call me that,” I snapped with irritation.

Cato smirked. “Kat then?”

I glared again. No one has ever called me Kat. If they did they'd be strung upside down in the nearest tree. I walked away from him at that, and examined the knives and swords glistening along the wall.

Cato followed at my heels, and I don't know why. What is going on in that head of his? I couldn't help but wonder. I felt odd, not normal. Almost – giddy, and that was not something I was accustomed to feeling.

“So – were you really drunk coming down today?” he said as I balanced a few swords in my hand. I'm not very good with them, but I suppose they're like knives.

“Not really, had a drink with Haymitch.”

“Yes, the head diving off the stage drunkard. I am so impressed,” he mocked.

I shrugged. “No time to be choosy.” Cato conceded to that. “First time I officially met him, he puked everywhere.” Cato snorted. “Took ramming a table knife into a wall to get him to sober up just enough to mentor us.”

“Probably because he actually had a fighter in the group,” said Cato wisely.

I was surprise that Cato would even say such a thing. “So – you do pay attention?”

“Enough. I'm told its pointless, all the outlying districts, but I still watch and pay attention. I probably pay more attention than they like me to. As you said – it can't be a coincidence that the youngest ones seem to come from the outlying districts.”

“A lot of us take tesserae. I refused to let Prim do it,” I said coolly as I used the dummies as knife throwing practice. I was nowhere near as precise as Cato's fellow Tribute, but I could hold my own. I hit most of the targets, three of the ten square in the chest.

“You look well fed.”

“Imagine that?” I smirked at him, but said nothing more.

Cato arched an eyebrow. “Hm... you are not holding that right. Its not a knife.” He took the sword from my hands, and then tossed it. “This will only get you killed.” He fished around, and found one with a light weight, and handed it to her. “Follow me.”

We went over to a mat, and even though Tributes weren't supposed to train with one another, we did anyway. He began to correct my hands, and showed me a few swift movements.

I should just drop it and walk away, but I find myself intrigued, and follow suit. “Never had much need for a sword.” It would only slow me down during a hunt, but I don't say that out loud.

“Never know when you need it.” It was obviously his favorite weapon of choice.

I didn't tell him I was ordered not to stay around the cornucopia due to the bloodbath. It would be tempting if there was a bow in the midst of it all, but I wasn't counting on it.

I stifled a yawn not long after, and Cato chuckled. “Sleepy, Kat?”

I hiss at the nickname, and he laughs even harder as if I've proved his point. I want to punch him, but he's so big I think twice. “I need to go to bed before I'm caught. Haymitch will have my head if he finds out I've been down here.”

“Not to mention your little Lover Boy.”

I glare. “I do not like Peeta.”

“I didn't say _you_ did.” Cato pointed out. I paused at that, frozen in horror at the idea. Cato snorted. “You didn't know? You couldn't tell?”

“Uhm... no?” Now I feel weird. I shake my head. I have no time to dwell on that thought. “Going to bed. Good night, Cato.”

“Night, Kat.”

“ _Asshole_!” I call back, and all I hear as I punch the elevator button is his laughter, which isn't as ice cold or ruthless as I expected it to be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to be consistent with updating. I'm trying to get the hang of uploading things again. :)

2.

  


_**Cato** _

Its the second day of their five days of training at the center, and seven days altogether until the Hunger Games begin. I am lying in bed aware of the fact that my Mentors are right outside the room jabbering away in the other room. I can still hear them. I can also hear Clove. I don't know what she is saying, and I don't give a damn.

I'm lying here staring at the vaulted opulent ceiling thinking about things. Some people would laugh at me thinking, most believe I'm a brainless sociopath, and they should think that. I have to make them think that – they have to fear me because if they don't then I die.

Its not a matter of want. Its a need. I _have_ to do this.

I can't quite place why it is that I'm drawn to that girl from District 12. I've been raised to hate everyone and everything, but I can't seem to shake it. Its starting to drive me crazy. Last night, I had been in awe when I watched her quite literally own the archery station.

She could kill me in an instant. That small fiery little girl from District 12 could have me dead in a second. If there was a fight, me with all my favorite weapons, and her with just a bow – I wouldn't last.

No way in hell.

So, why don't I see her as an enemy? Why don't I feel this rage that should bubble beneath the surface? I don't quite know myself, and it kind of bothers me. The way she speaks, its as if she is always carefully considering her words. She's not like the others, she's not cold and icy, but she's blunt and precise.

She has something – something I see in Julia back home. Julia is the youngest. She's five years old, and has a smile that would make any monster crumble. She has a natural warmth that makes others want to be near her no matter how cold she is. Its as if she is like that for all the right reasons.

Is it because I can tell she is a good person? Her Reaping had been unusual, and it sparked interest. It made Clove and Glimmer burn with a fiery hatred, they wanted to see her dead.

Why didn't I want to see her dead? Knowing full well that she could kill me.

There was a tap on the door, and I see Enobaria standing there one hand on her hip. “Getting up sunshine?”

“Don't call me that,” I growl sitting up.

“I heard last night that you were getting cozy with a certain – fire girl,” she sneered, and I resisted the urge to rush in there to Clove and slice her head off.

“What of it?”

The tall tan skinned woman smirked, showing her gold inlaid teeth that were razor sharp. “Not a bad idea – as long as she's worth your time.”

“I wouldn't know.” I find myself not speaking of Katniss' skills with the bow. I don't know why, I should, but I don't. “We only talked, tied knots – that's it.”

“Should learn more about her... find her weakness and her strengths.”

“Doubt she'd tell me,” I lied easily as I grab a towel, and then slam the door to the bathroom, swiftly cutting off any form of communication with my mentor.

She's alright, not as horrible as I've been warned. At least it isn't Brutus. One would think I would have the male mentor, but it doesn't work that way all the time. The mentor's pick which one of the Tributes they believe has the best shot of winning, and then the second is tasked with protecting that Tribute.

I'm the chosen one. I win and Clove protects me. I think this is why she's so acidic toward me talking with Katniss. She has to give her life for mine.

It should bug me, but I've been raised to think differently. I know that. I know it should. I should feel something, regret or guilt maybe, but I don't.

I don't know how.

I don't even talk to Clove during breakfast, and ignore the Mentors and District 2 Escort, Lala – a long purple haired woman with the palest of skin, and an odd heart shaped mark on her left cheek. She was the worst of them all. Every time she spoke that high pitched voice made me want to snap her neck.

I've already pinned her to the wall once on the train when she tried to order me around. It was instinctual, and my Mentors – _both_ of them had to pull me off her. She hasn't addressed me since.

I leave the table without dismissing myself, and instead of the elevator I take the small staircase the short distance to the gym. Its only nine thirty, and it seems as if I'm the only one who has arrived early.

My head is a cloudy mess, and so I decide to take it out at the spear station, and it ends with the trainer nearly sobbing from my ruthlessness. The mess of my head was just receding back into its depths when other Tributes began to file out one by one from the elevators provided.

I hope I get a moments peace, but I don't because Glimmer, the District 1 Tribute makes a beeline for me. I can't hide the disgust on my face, but she doesn't seem to notice.

“Hi, Cato,” she purred. “Want to work together today?” she asked beaming.

I would like to tell her to fuck off, but my Mentor explicitly said to add the District 1 Careers if I get a chance. I don't think this girl will be much use, her Sponsors maybe. It's obvious she's going to use the sexy angle. Most men would think she was sexy. I guess she is with her full figured hour glass body, long blonde hair, and bright green eyes.

I however see something else, I see – stupidity. I have no doubt that she can be deadly, one of those Black Widow types that we have in District 2. The ones who marry, and then something happens to their husbands leaving them with an infinite amount of riches and sympathies.

My District is too stupid to put two and two together, and they say I'm the idiot? I know I'm not the sharpest weapon mentally, but even I can see right through her.

She won't get out of the Arena alive. I know this, if not by my hand then someone elses. I hope its Katniss who takes her. I don't say this nor do I show it as I walk away in hopes of putting distance between us, but she follows at my heels like a puppy.

Clove seems to find it amusing, Marvel is glaring – its obvious he likes his fellow Tribute. Good for him. I want nothing to do with her. My unannounced group gather around me at the heavy weapons station. They are all laughing and causing a ruckus, and getting the attention of everyone else.

Every now and then I join in, but I really don't want to ally myself with these two. I see Katniss on the other side of the training playing with the snares again. Its obvious that she's not going to show any amount of what she can do. I don't quite blame her. Everyone is already writing her off as useless. Glimmer was making fun of her, and Clove seemed to be enjoying it.

I slip from my group, and make my way casually around the stations. I don't stop at the ones that my Mentors deemed as useless, except for the snares. It would probably be best if I didn't approach her, but my feet are moving before I can stop them.

“Come forward, Cato – you might find yourself dangling from a tree,” Katniss muses without looking up.

“You sure it can hold me?”

Katniss then looks up at me, those piercing gray eyes sizing me up. I'm used to being sized up. Glimmer had been doing it since she saw me, but this look – this one was making me feel awkward. I don't react more than cocking my head to the side, smirk in place. “Hm... want to test it?”

“No thanks.”

“ _Ah_ , well just as long as the rabbits aren't as big as you, I'll be fine.”

“And if they are?”

Katniss shrugs, not answering. Perhaps, she already has a plan, and doesn't want to spill it. I can't blame her, we've damned ourselves enough with trading useless information that could be used against each other. I find myself sitting down, and trying a snare, the trainer is delighted to have a Career trying it out. Probably one of the first times. I don't have much taste for them, never saw a need, but I find doing this is kind of – relaxing. My mind goes away from the impending bloodshed, the thirst I inherently crave due to the years of training.

If you want to call it training.

Katniss is looking at my snare, and I feel the need to do my best, but I'm all thumbs just like the knots. My fingers are not practiced like hers. Its obvious that even though she comes from the poor district, she has survived. She has taken care of herself and her family – I bet she hunts. As illegal as it is there is no other reason for her to be as good with a bow as she is. I've seen District 12 Tributes year after year – most of them are hollow, skinny, cheekbones prominent, and while Katniss has very little weight, she is sturdy – strong. I bet she takes that risk – and its fairly obvious that she will have an advantage in the Arena. She can find food, while I've been counted on to get a hold of the supplies at the Cornucopia.

“You're a wily one,” I say absently.

“And you're not as stupid as you let on,” Katniss remarks back.

“Probably not. Do you want to team up together?”

“Maybe with you, but not with them,” Katniss' eyes are lingering on the three Careers glaring at us.

I look over my shoulder, smirk at them, and turn back. “Am I just that irresistible?”

Katniss rolls those eyes. “Hardly, you're just less – _grotesque_.”

“I'm flattered,” I mock knowing it was an insult, but still amuses me nonetheless.

“Don't be.”

“Same time tonight?” I ask before I can stop.

Katniss' face is blank as it always is, and she's quiet as she uses a rock to test her snare. Its perfect. Much better than my pathetic attempt. “Maybe.” She then leans just an inch closer so no one can hear us, not even cameras. “I hear the roof is splendid, the wind is loud though.”

“...” I know what she is saying. She wants away from the cameras, the eyes and ears of the Capitol. I can hardly blame her. “Is that so?”

“Hm...”

I don't know why I want to talk to her so bad. Perhaps its because back home there is no one to talk to. Everyone in District 2 is well trained and groomed for giving their life to the Capitol. I guess I have been to, but there is something they can't take from me. I don't know what that is – once again my intelligence isn't as large of a pool as some of the others. I just know I want to talk, and talk to her.

Maybe its because she's real?

I can't even begin to explain it. Maybe I don't want to.

**Katniss**

The roof? I invited him onto the roof, a Career Tribute. One that will have no trouble slashing my neck in the Arena. I can't believe this, have I lost all common sense?

I can't begin to understand it or myself. What was I thinking? Haymitch would be beside himself, and I can see Peeta glaring at me as if accusing me of ruining his life. I think about what Cato said last night about Peeta liking me.

That's absurd, we'd never had a conversation – not even during the bread incident when he fed me. He couldn't possibly like me. It was stupid to think about. Out of the corner of my eye I see Cato pushing Glimmer away, and I can't help but smirk in satisfaction. Glimmer looks as if her whole world is about to collapse when he does it. He even ignores her, causing her to pout so prettily.

I'm surprised, I had figured a man like Cato would be all over someone as lush and beautiful as Glimmer. I guess not.

Why am I thinking about this? It's ridiculous. The more I talk to Cato the more I find it hard to see him as a number that needs to be killed. I look around at all the Tributes. Most of them are going to be facing imminent death.

Maybe its better for them. Maybe in death they can get away from the Capitol's hold on them. I see Rue – the small little District 11 girl playing with the plants. She looks up, and our eyes lock. I can't help but give her a real smile as I would Prim.

She gushes at me, and my heart pounds. My instincts are to grab that little girl, and hide her away somewhere safe. I want to protect her. I wonder if I can. I doubt it, but I'd like to try. I can't kill her – no way. Not even for my own life. I'm not a trained Career, I don't have that mindset.

I hunt animals. I don't hunt humans. Gale is an idiot to say that animals and humans are the same. Its not. You don't eat humans unless you've gone crazy. You don't make personal connections with them unless you're Prim. I haven't spoken to Rue, but she already has a personal connection to me.

My sister. It would be like hurting my sister. I can't do that. It would kill me inside, it would break everything that I was.

I'm done with the snares, and there's nothing more for me to really do. The most elaborate would take time to put down, and I doubt I have time. Time is not on my side. It never is.

I thank the trainer, and leave the station. Peeta is at the camouflage station, but I can't get myself to approach so instead I go over to the edible plants and bugs section. I've never had to eat bugs – and while I would if it came down to it, I prefer to shoot what I eat.

And there she is, Prim – no Rue sitting on her knees, her wild curly hair around her angel face.

“These are really good for Tracker Jacker stings,” she makes the conversation first as I sit across from her. She is holding out some leaves I recognize. I take one, and investigate it. “Get them wet, and put them on the wounds, don't forget to take the stingers out first or it'll be worse.”

I smile sadly. “You've run into them, huh?”

“Oh yes, the orchards in 11 are covered with them, particularly high up.”

Orchards, that's right. “You are from the Agriculture district?” We don't know much about other districts except the basic of the basics. District 1 – luxury items. District 2 is where the Peacekeepers come from, and so on and so forth. But, its obvious that the Capitol doesn't want us to know too much so they leave it at that. Nothing more and nothing less than the basics, and some of it is probably a lie as well.

She bobs her head. “Yep. I saw you talking to that big boy.”

I shrug. “He talks to me.”

“I think he likes you,” Rue whispers, and I roll my eyes.

“Hardly, we don't even know each other.”

“So, I think – I think he liked what you did for your sister.”

I look down. “I'm sorry no one else could take your place,” I find myself saying. I am aware of her fellow Tribute nearby. I suppose he is watching out for her, so he could hear everything we're saying.

“We have too many people as it is,” said Rue shrugging. “It's okay. I have sisters and brothers to. I'm the oldest.”

“Still, its not fair.” I know what I'm saying is ridiculous, and it could get me in a world of trouble, but I can't help myself. This instinct I have to try and protect her, to try and say something. Let her know I am not like the others, I may be trying to survive, but I could never – ever harm such a precious little girl.

“You're very brave you know,” says Rue to me, and my stomach twirls.

“I don't think so. I have a flight instinct, not a fight. I'll run as long as possible, till I can't anymore.”

Rue doesn't seem to believe me, but she humors me anyway. “That's all we can do.”

We trade words, and I learn more about her District, and I offer up information about ours as well, and I feel suddenly as if we are not at the Hunger Games ready and waiting to fight for our lives. What I wouldn't give if it could be so. I was meeting Rue under different circumstances, I'd invite her home, and feed her and her siblings. I would, I could do it. I could hunt, and she could bring the food.

We could have a feast, and get our bellies filled, and go to sleep peacefully.

Lunch comes, and I find myself sitting with Rue instead of Peeta who is talking to a boy from District 3 I think it is. Rue comments about how good the food is, and that she'd never had a full plate in her life.

I can't help but ruffle her head, and offer my melon even though I know there's plenty. She cheers at this, and I am aware that I'm being watched. I look up, and my eyes lock with Cato. His eyes are a deep dark blue – almost like navy. He's watching me, and I look away. I don't feel particularly comfortable with it, and why would he even care about a District 12 girl who likely had no chance of winning.

What was his game? I don't know. Why am I playing it?

I roll this question around in my head, and then I think – I'm playing it because there are so much worse games to play. If I play this game, I can imagine for one moment that the Hunger Games don't exist.

Maybe he thinks the same way or maybe he's trying to weaken me. Well, the latter isn't going to work. I hope he realizes that by now.

Maybe he has, and he simply wants someone to talk to? I don't know, my mind is fuzzy, and I wipe it away mentally. There's no use in dwelling on something I don't have an answer for.

It almost midnight by the time I make my way to the roof. The wind is howling, and the gorgeous rose garden glitters in the night sky. I press my hands to the railing, and peer down into the lit up streets. Some party is still going on in the square, and I can't help but wonder if this is all they day all day every day.

Did they trade in their pride and dignity, their own minds for nothing but entertainment? Did they agree to give up everything else so long as they can have a good life? What kind of life was this? I could just imagine how they would do in the Arena. They'd all die within a day. The Capitol people wouldn't know what it was like to starve, and watch loved ones starving. They couldn't possibly understand the horror of sending children off to death.  
The fear when a beautiful woman gets pregnant for the first time because the only thing that comes to mind is _'will my child live to see his or her thirteenth birthday?'_ Will they die in the arena or will they starve to death first? How can I provide when the Capitol insists on keeping us safe with electric fences?

I'm sixteen, and while I know my mother is scared to death it would be completely different if Prim was in my place right now. There's just something horrifying about someone so small being forced to kill or be killed. A precious life snuffed out in the blink of an eye.

I take a deep breath when the massive shadow consumes me, and hands press down next to mine, and I'm suddenly arm to arm with Cato. His muscles rippling, and twitching against my slim puny ones. He's so big, I'm surprised the force field doesn't touch the top of his head.

For a long time neither of us speak, and its pleasant and quiet except for the wind rushing and whipping. “No cameras?” He asks after some time.

“I've been – told that cameras go haywire because of the force-field, and microphones die.”

He smirked. “Clever. You're lucky, you have a view.”

“What view? Of that -” I point to the trash down below. “People getting wasted, eating their fill, cheering and betting who dies and who lives. Not caring that they are someone's child, a future mother or father, a sibling – imagine _them_ in the Arena?”

“They wouldn't last a second,” said Cato simply. “I've never been allowed to think like that.”

“I thought District 2 lived a coddled life.”

“We do,” he said easily. “But there's always a price. Some are happy to volunteer, some do it for the glory. I admit, the glory is nice, and I'm trained to enjoy it. I do – I'm bloodthirsty – the idea of getting into the Arena, and destroying everything in my path – its in my blood. Are you any different?”

I glare at him. “I'm different because I can't see so black and white. I can't see humans as animals.”

“Lucky you,” Cato says contritely. “When the time comes, and its you and them – what are you going to do?”

“I'll do what I have to,” I say as my fingernails scrape against the concrete rail. I know my prep team are going to be furious at how scratched and scraped they'll be. “I'll probably kill when the time comes, but I'm going to do it on my own terms. Not because they want me to, but because I have to.”

“Not all of us have that luxury,” said Cato bitterly.

“Guess not.” I turn, and then slip onto the balcony with my legs swinging.

Cato looks at me blankly. I'm trying to read his face, but I'm at a loss. I can't even begin to decipher what this guy is thinking. He's going to be my prey in the arena, I'll be his prey as well, and yet here I am talking to him.

I look him over with scrutiny, but once again my instincts are coming up dry. That's unusual.

“You think I don't know what we are to the Capitol? You think I don't see it? I have three little sisters, and because of my volunteering they will never have to worry about having their names in the bowl. Never will they be called to do what I have to do.”

“Don't try and weaken me,” I snap.

“I'm not,” said Cato shortly. “What I say only makes you stronger. I know that, and you know that. Perhaps, I just wanted someone to talk to that understands – understands in a way that no one else – not one person in my own district could.”

I can understand that, but I still don't trust him. I only give him a small nod as I looked away. I feel something odd Cato looks at me. I don't know what it is, and I'm not sure I like it. “Can I ask one favor of you?”

Cato smirked. “Favors now, huh? Want me to kill pretty boy for you?”

I shake my head. “Keep your allies away from Rue,” I say quietly. “If she dies, I'd rather it be – humane.”

“I doubt my crew are even thinking about her. They'll probably forget she exists, but I agree. However I have a favor of my own.”

I frown, and look at him. He standing now. “When it comes down to you and me, and I know it will, we fight with everything we have to kill one another.”

I scowl. “I won't make it.”

“Bull shit,” Cato snapped. “I see it. You are a survivor! You're a fighter. You won't give up until the end. I want you to throw everything you have at me.”

“You're so sure you'll end up at the end?”

Cato smirked. “I know I will, and I know you will. At least if I die, I die a worthy death.”

I can't believe he is saying this to me. I want to smack him or scratch his eyes out. But I can't. My heart is trembling inside, and the blood is pooling around my neck threatening to spill from my ears. “There are no worthy deaths in the Hunger Games.”

“We can make them worthy then.” He holds out his large muscled hand. “Deal?”

I take in a deep breath, and then before I can say anything my hand is reacting. My instincts clawing at me as I place my smaller hand in his. His palm is so hot that I can feel it deep beneath my skin. He doesn't try to break my hand like I expected, instead he gives me a squeeze, and a small smile plays on his face. A real smile.

Not one of those constructed smirks that he gives out. No, this was real, and I see the little blonde haired, blue eyed child for the briefest of seconds. A child trying to protect his family.

“Your Mentors would be beside themselves if they could see you,” I say to lighten the mood.

Cato snorted. “Probably, don't give a shit though. Why should I?”

I think I understand Cato a little better, and I realize as we stand there staring up at the star speckled sky that Cato hasn't let go of my hand, and while I should jerk it away the warmth is what stops me.

Such a cold blooded killer couldn't have such warm hands could they? His one hand completely swallowed mine, and I bet they could swallow both with ease. I feel a thumb brush along the top, and I look at him. Cato isn't look at me, he's looking at the stars, and doesn't seem to be realizing what he's doing.

My skin is getting warmer, flushing a light pink despite the cool air. I shiver unconsciously, and look away as Cato drops his gaze. He notices me shivering from the wind, and the next thing I know he's putting a jacket around my shoulders. It's a leather jacket, and it smells crisp, and like cologne. It swallows me whole, and I know I look dwarfed in it. He's left in a white sleeveless t-shirt that is form fitting showing all his muscles in his chest and torso, and a pair of gray sweatpants that hang loosely on his hips.

I refuse to find him attractive.

He doesn't smell like the pine that I'm used to from Gale. The scent of nature, the lingering etch of coal dust even if you didn't work in the mines as it always hung in the air like black smoke.

“Thank you. I'm fine. What about you?”

Cato shrugged. “Doesn't bother me.”

I snort. “Right, course not.” There are so many things I should do right now. I should get up and leave, I should deny the warmth, I should yank my hand from Cato and declares us enemies. We have a war to fight, and we are on opposite sides.

The poor starving girl from the Seam versus the well fed and trained Monster boy from District 2 – the lapdogs of the Capitol. So, why am I not doing it then? Why am I not reacting in the way I should? Why do I feel more pity for him? He hasn't suffered like my people have in District 12. He has never gone hungry, and he's never been forced to work until permanently sore like Rue. He turns then, and sits on the balcony beside me, my hand still in his, and I feel it resting on his thigh. It's thick, and the material of the sweatpants doesn't hide the muscles.

If anything it made them more prominent, and I can't pull away. My heart is beating, and my body is tingling. What am I feeling? What's going on? I'm confused, and I'm completely out of my element.

“You have small hands,” Cato comments what I've been observing.

“Brute.” I take in a sharp breath when his fingertips graze my palm.

I'm kind of sleepy, but I don't want to leave. There were no cameras, and no listening devices to overhear me, and for once I feel a sense of normalcy even if only for a moment. I shut my eyes for a moment, the wind washing over me wasn't so biting because of the jacket, and now only served to make me more comfortable. I feel my body becoming light, and something really warm settles around me. It's almost as if I'm hypnotized, and the world around me disappears as something encloses around me.

**Cato**

How can she fall asleep like that? I wrap my arms around her, aware of how soft she smells. There are no perfumes or fruity scents to make me sneeze. She smells clean, and I hold her as her light weight settles against me, unaware of what she is doing because I know if she did, she'd spring away as if I were on fire.

Funny that. She was the Fire Girl after all. I am careful as I slip my arms around her, and slip easily off the balcony until we are on the lush green grass. She seems not to notice, and I take in a breath when she shifts and curls around my entire left side.

It was such a simple and innocent gesture. I can only watch as she curls into me, her small body pressed to me, our heat radiating and bouncing back and forth. I can only watch her as I'm stunned into silence. A strange awareness that I am not accustomed to. She can't feel all that safe falling asleep beside me, but maybe she didn't realize what she was doing. It was one of those nights where it was just so easy to drop your guard.

I hold onto her thinking about our conversation, the deal we made. She doesn't trust me that much was easy, but she had to ask somebody, and it was me she asked because she knows I can do it. Probably one of the few people who can agree to ignore the little girl that touched this young woman's heart.

It should be unprecedented. I shouldn't be agreeing, but I do. Unlike me, I can trust her word because she is not like me. She is not like Clove or Glimmer or anyone else. She is someone different, she is the Girl on Fire, and I know that live or die, she won't go down dishonorably.

Maybe that's why I'm drawn to her? She's fierce and headstrong, stubborn, and yet at the same time she is also pure. A purity that I've only seen in my little sisters. She's a true person, and it doesn't take a genius to realize why someone would be in love with her. I could imagine her admirers in her District.

They are all the silent type, unable to get close to her, but that didn't mean they didn't notice her. Its likely that they watched her a lot without her ever knowing. She was one of those.

The types that do not exist in my district very often. My mother was like that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to stop using - whenever I'm writing, particularly First Person. I think of how I speak internally and think, and the dashes only come naturally. So I'll try to eliminate most of them. Writing using internal monologue is harder than I anticipated. I'm also trying NOT to make this a love at first sight fic. So I hope I'm doing alright on that front. 
> 
> Also, I have this whole story plotted out on paper, there are only 3 key points I haven't been able to figure out yet. I'm hoping it comes to me the more I write. I'm suspecting 20 Chapters in this story, but we'll see.

3.

**Katniss**

Something was breathing underneath me, and when I come to, I feel the wind rushing through me, ruffling my hair and face. Its warm, but my lips feel chapped. My head is on something hard, and the smell of cologne tickled my nose, and when I raise my head, I'm alarmed. I scoot back out of the arms of District 2's Career Tribute, horror railing through me as I watch the blonde sleeping half sitting up, and half lying down.

Somehow we had gotten off the balcony and onto the grassy knoll that stretched across the roof. I take a deep breath as my heart beats wildly in my chest, and the color on my cheeks – oh I can't see them, but I just know they are red considering the heat coming from me.

I am wrapped in Cato's leather jacket, and begin to pull it closer only to scowl silently and rip it off my shoulders, angry at myself for weakening and falling asleep. What the hell is wrong with me? I look away, ignoring the sight of the peacefully sleeping Tribute.

Yes, that's right. He's a Tribute, and he's going to try and kill me. In a few short days our conversations will be null and void, and we'll become strangers once again. One or both of us will turn into a beast of imaginable power, and we'll overtake each other, and only one comes out of it alive.

I rub my eyes, and wonder to myself what time it is when Cato's eyes flicker open, and he winces from the sunlight streaming over the roof. “Morning...”

“...” I don't know what to say. He's giving me a blinding smile, and I glare at him. He chuckles roughly as he sits up, wincing as he had used the concrete base of the balcony as a pillow.

He rubs his neck as I toss his jacket to him. I stifle a cough as my throat is raw from the wind, and I need water.

“Better get downstairs before I'm missed,” I finally speak, and when I do its hoarse.

“Is that an invitation?” I glare harder if it was possible, and he's laughing at me now as he folds his jacket across his arm. “Come on, Katniss we spent the night together, quite peacefully to.”

“Which shouldn't have happened,” I rasp standing. My clothes are rumpled, and my hair is knotted and matted from all the wind.

“Tonight same time?”

I want to punch him in that moment as he stands, towering over me. He's grinning now, not the smirks he uses, and I want to tell him to go away and ignore me, but before I do my mouth opens. “Fine.” I push him toward the door. “Get going before we're caught.”

“Yes ma'am.”

“Ass.”

We take the elevator together, and I make Cato stand to the side, hidden by the metal in case anyone was waiting on the other side.

“You sure are bossy,” Cato taunts.

I'm not sorry about it, and Cato seems more amused than anything. He pushes up against the wall on the opposite side when the elevator dings. I step out, and immediately Cato closes it to go down to his floor.

I am relieved when no one is meeting me at the elevator with angry glares and demands on where I've been. Apparently, its too early for that as Haymitch is passed out on the sofa, bottles of alcohol littering around him on the floor.

I creep quietly passed, cheering internally when the man is completely dead to the world. I slip into my room as I hear the door on the other side open. Taking a deep breath, I head for a nice hot shower with hopes that the steam would loosen my throat muscles.

After braiding my wet hair, and letting it fall to my back I head out of the room to see everyone up and around for breakfast.

Peeta is looking at me oddly. “You weren't in your room last night.”

I shrug. “I was hanging out on the roof.” Away from cameras, but I didn't say that.

Haymitch was giving me a long suffering look, and suddenly I'm wondering if I still smell like Cato's cologne. When everyone's busy getting food, I sniff my wrist only to get a snort of amusement from the bedraggled man as if he knew what I was up to.

I purse my lips together as I sip my orange juice. Maybe he wasn't as knocked out as I thought he was. If he knows, then he doesn't seem to be saying anything.

According to Effie its not just a training day, but a training day for the interviews. I was going to spend four hours with Effie – what oh what could we be doing for that long, I have no idea.

I can't believe I'm thinking this, but I can't wait to see Cato tonight, if only to get away from whatever Effie could possibly teach me – as if she knew anything. I decided to ignore and not think about the funny feeling in my belly.

**Cato**

Lala was shaking in her heels at the prospect of training me for the audience. I sat there staring at her as if she were a piece of meat that needed to be sliced. Every time she tried to speak she would come up short. “You know – just be yourself, I'm going to see Clove.” She rose from her position, and bolted from the room leaving me alone.

Good riddance, I thought in disgust. I sat there for a long time staring at nothing at all, contemplating whats going to happen in the next few days when Clove comes into the room and hour or two later with a glare.

“Great, she's so terrified of you that she's taking it out on me!” she growled. I shrug. I could careless. “Where the hell were you last night by the way?”

“None of your business.”

“It is my business if I have to risk my life for you,” Clove snarled. “I have to know the score, Cato! That's the plan.”

I vaguely listen to her chewing me out, and vaguely resist the urge to snap her neck in the midst of her tirade when Brutus comes for her.

The more I listen to their bullshit about the glory of the games, the more I start to feel ill and a little pissed off. They keep reminiscing about their own games, and how much fun they were. I don't know if its because I've been spending my time with someone who thinks the total opposite, and its starting to have a sobering effect on me or because the way I truly feel deep down inside is starting to emerge.

I can't help but think that everyone in my district really are fools.

I spend the rest of the day pretending to accept tips from Enobaria about stage presence, and how I should go about pleasing the crowd. I can't wait until this is over with, all this posturing for the sponsors. It's true I'm going to need them, but I can't help but despise it.

Later that night, I slip onto the roof, leather jacket in hand hoping to find Katniss waiting for me. I don't know why but the adrenaline in my veins is unlike anything I've felt before. She is competition, but she's also something else. I can't quite put my finger on it, and it bothers me.

My chest acts funny when I see her sitting on the grassy knoll, her slim legs tucked to one side, and she's rubbing them with a pained look on her face. She's wearing a hunter green tank top, and a pair of black shorts with her hair tied in a messy braid. She looks like she's sulking.

She looks up at me when I take a couple steps toward her, the glow from the moon and stars shine off her olive skin that was free of all makeup as I come to sit down in front of her wordlessly.

“Tell me you went through the same hell I just did,” she scoffed continuing to rub her feet.

“Sorry, my escort was too terrified of me.”

“Wish I could do terror,” she snorted enviously. “According to Haymitch I have the personality of a dead slug. Guess who won't be getting a single sponsor?”

Cato arched an eyebrow. “Is that why your feet are sore? Kicking him?”

She laughed before she could stifle it, and shook her head. “I wish, no, I spent the last four hours trying to walk in five inch stiletto heels! What is so good about heels? They're no good for running, and make your ankles swell – except maybe kicking someone. Why do I have to try and sit like a lady?” she sneered in disgust. “Why can't I be myself?”

“Why not? Who said you couldn't be?” I ask listening to her complaints.

“Uh, everyone?” Katniss' tone made it sound more like a statement than a question as if it were obvious.

“I'm not everyone. I like you.” Probably more than I should, but I don't say this.

“Yeah, _right_.” She did however give me one of those rare and very small smiles. She wasn't the type to give them out much, I could see. “ _Ulgh_ , I feel like someone has shot little tiny pebbles in the balls of my feet.”

I lay the jacket aside, and wordlessly I reach over and grab the ankle that she's rubbing. She squeaks, surprised by my move, and before she can jerk them away or protest I start rubbing along the soles of her feet. They're clean and soft, the Prep Team wouldn't have had it any other way, and as she is giving me a dirty look she gasps when my thumb presses into a particular muscle, and she gives a moan.

Immediately, I'm on edge, but I don't relent, and continue as she falls back on her hands to hold herself up, and moans desperately again.

“Does this help?” I tease and she scowls visibly.

“Shut up.”

I can tell with rubbing her feet that at one time they had covered a lot of distance, possibly walking. They may look perfect on the outside, but I can feel the well trained and possibly strong heel. I run my hands gently down to the back of her foot massaging firmly but tenderly, and began to circle around her ankle. She's breathing heavier, her eyes closed in sheer bliss.

I don't know why it is, but I'm stirred beyond imagination. Her voice is softer more clear, and her face – the ecstasy on her face drives me to continue working her feet over as her arms seem to try and give way.

They're so small, I think looking down, and away from the blissful expression on Katniss' face. I'm not used to being the one to cause such an expression, and it stirs me again. I know this feeling, I'm not that big of a moron.

Or maybe I am. I have allowed myself to do the unthinkable. The one thing that is forbidden for all Careers to do. They are trained from the time they enter into the contract – and I have ripped it apart without even meaning to.

This girl, this damn _beautiful_ Girl on Fire.

I think – _no_ – I know I may be falling for her. Its just too easy. She has been the first person to be real to me. She's not fake and plastic, she's not trying to be someone she isn't.

Fuck, I'm screwed, and I know it. It seems impossible, we've known each other what – three days? Give or take, but when you can die at any time those three days easily turn into weeks and months. You don't have long to live, and I know this, and I think that I'm finally realizing my true worth to my District and Capitol.

I've always known it deep down, but its more palpable now. Even if I win, I'll always have this feeling inside of me like I've lost everything. I'll be dead inside.

For the moment, this one girl lights a fire, and warms me. Its blinding and bright.

Its also a hopeless endeavor.

Gently, I place her foot down, trying to calm myself. She whimpers in protest, and opens one eye. I smirk when she eagerly pulls her other leg out from under her and places it on my knee. Her toes wiggle expectantly.

I pinch the middle one, and she makes a squeak and a growl sound in one. I laugh, and begin to rub. “You sure are bossy.”

“You said that already.”

“Just restating the fact,” I say working my fingers along her skin. She's warm and inviting, and I can see the look on her face is one mixed with confusion and bliss. Its like she doesn't want to want me here, but here I am, and she's not telling me to go away.

I wish she would.

“The sponsors would fall over themselves if they saw you like this,” I say to break the comfortable silence.

“They don't deserve any part of the real me,” Katniss replies coolly. “But, I guess you're right.”

“Just be yourself. Maybe not this part of you, but you can show your determination, and the Fire you possessed during the chariot ride and when you volunteered for your sister. Let them see that you won't give up without a fight.”

“And if I score a 1 with the Gamemakers? What do I have then to work with.”

I highly doubt she would score that low, particularly if she shows them her bow skills. I'm not used to comforting people, but it seems naturally at the moment. “If you really do score a 1, then deal with it. I doubt it though, shoot straight and they will have to score you high.”

I continue rubbing her feet, but its getting harder because she's so twitchy and a little on the noisy side its causing things to stir within me, and I'm having trouble controlling parts of me. She is currently stretched out in front of me, and I can't help but let my eyes slide up her smooth slim legs to the small supple curve of her hips.

She is tiny, but she is very feminine at the same time. She has a natural shape, not one that may have potentially been altered surgically like Glimmer.

I feel a little too hot, and so I very gently place her feet down, and then do my best to shift, and quickly grab the jacket and lay it over my lap. No need to get a kick in the face.

Katniss is confused, by this time she's laying down on the grass, and she turns, tilting her head. “Short lived.”

“I can't continue,” I confess. I might as well be honest with her.

Katniss once again looks baffled, not sure why I would say something like that. I then let my eyes drop to my lap where the jacket is draped. Its almost comical when her eyes become wide and rounded like an owl, and then she flushes.

I can't help but wonder where else she is flushed. I try to wipe the thought from my mind before I lose my inability to think clearly.

Now, its tense, the comfortable silence having turned awkward. “Sorry, but I figured it was better than lying to you.”

“...” Katniss says nothing, not entirely sure what to say. “This is just going to make things harder isn't it?”

I shrug as I shift, and lay down on my stomach. I move to where we are next to one another, and she can see me better. “I'm starting to realize some things that I've always known, but have been buried too long.”

“That Panem is nothing but a cage? Some are gilded, and treated better as pets, and the others are cast aside to collect the scraps, but in the end we are all in the same position. We are cornered and imprisoned forced to turn on each other with the hope that we can survive, but we never really do, do we?” Katniss says looking away and staring up at the starry sky. “Look at my mentor, Cato. Look at Haymitch now. He's a Victor, but he told me that the ride didn't end the moment he's crowned. I can tell that all his hope has been sucked out, and all he's waiting for is to eventually die with some meaning. Hoping that one of his Tributes that he sends to death every single year since he's won would do him one last favor, win so he can fall in peace.”

Its exactly what I've been keeping buried for so long. She says the words, and the meaning behind them is clear. “They own us.” I hate it. I hate to say it because it makes it more real. I hate it because I know inside its going to kill me.

“Sure do. We are stamped and bought, and when they want – they will sell us to the highest bidder.” Katniss frowns, and I hate that look – so beautiful and yet so forlorn. Her face doesn't deserve that look. “What can we do? What little we have, what little we hold onto will be destroyed bit by bit if we don't play their game. My Prim and your family.”

“They are already destroyed,” I say before I can stop it. “My mom was killed when she refused to hand me over as a potential Tribute five years ago. I had to stand there and watch as they pulled the trigger, and then I had a choice – agree or watch as each one of my sisters, including baby Jules – one week old were taken and sold to the Capitol because of their _'perfect genetics'_.”

“What do you mean by genetics?” Katniss asks me confused.

“Blue eyes and blonde hair are seen as the ultimate genetics, the ultimate in purity. A lot of families sell their children for big bounties to the Capitol never to be seen again as they are bought and sold.”

“What about your father?”

“He was a Peacekeeper. He was killed right after my mother as he killed the Head Peacekeeper in a fit of rage for what he'd done. I had no choice, but to step up and embrace my calling. The only chance to protect what little I have left, and pretend that I forgot all about my past or that I just don't care. A lot of families in District 2 simply don't care.”

“ _How awful_ ,” Katniss breaths, her eyes shining with tears. “There are times we all go hungry, and some kids are starving, but I couldn't imagine anyone in the Seam selling their children, willingly handing them over. M-my mother and Prim would have been prime then, huh?”

I think back to the little girl that was walking to the stage, and I cringe inwardly. _Yes, yes she would have been._ I don't say it because I don't have to nor do I want to. 

“My father died in a mining explosion five years ago. My mother lost her will, she was all but gone, and Prim and I were starving. I was a pained confused child, and then I remember what my father taught me, and I learned to take care of us. I became Prim's mother. I took care of her, I put food on the table, wiped her tears, and made her smile. I worked my ass off so she didn't have to take the tesserae, and yet she was called out of all the Seam children who didn't have someone like me to look out for them, who had to take the rations for their families or face starvation...” She shook her head. “God, if they could hear us now...” 

I can only imagine. They probably wouldn't take it out on us, but our families. It would be just the thing they'd do. The perfect way to destroy us without giving up their Tributes. 

We lay there together in a still silence allowing the breeze to ruffle our bodies, the midnight glow was especially appealing on Katniss, and once again I'm fighting urges that I shouldn't have. 

She's shivering again, and I remember my jacket. Its lying underneath me. I pull it out, and lay it across her. She turns to me, but says nothing. She doesn't need to. In the end, I'm just a bloodthirsty Career Tribute, right? She could never fully trust me. 

Could she?

It seems kind of ridiculous for me to actually like Katniss since it hadn't been that long. There is no such thing as love at first sight. That's stupid to even think about, however, the Hunger Games causes a paradox, and it amplifies everything from the sense of smell to a sense of time.

One minute becomes one day, and one hour becomes a week, and so its inevitable that one day would become one month. If there were no Hunger Games, I'd probably be drawn to her as a healthy young adult male. I wouldn't have fallen for her so quickly, but watched her move. I don't quite think she understands her appeal. She has that personality that doesn't realize what she does to others, particularly those of the opposite sex.

If there were no Hunger Games, and this was just a District meet and greet, I'd probably end up falling for her, but it wouldn't be as urgent or amplified like it is now. It would take time, maybe I would ask her out, and she would smack me, and tell me to screw off.

She seems like the kind of woman who would do that. I bet she was the the type that even Finnick Odair wouldn't be able to get close to. She wouldn't see the sexiest man alive as even remotely sexy. She would glare at him, eyes of steel, and tell him in no uncertain terms to fuck off. Maybe not with those words, but the message would be clear.

I like that fire, I like it too much. I wouldn't mind if it soaked me and burned me alive.

I think my twisted sense of self-worth has finally gotten to me.


End file.
